


(what makes him) so good

by ambitioncutsusdown



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, slightly D/s (if you squint)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only when Gally breaks the kiss, that Minho remembers he has to breathe so he won't pass out. He's gulping down air underneath Gally's amused gaze, probably ever so smug with Minho's reaction, but he can't help it.</p><p>“Someone might find us,” he whispers as soon as he gets control over his lungs again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(what makes him) so good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bitchmitchie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchmitchie/gifts).



> valentine present for [paloma](threerunners.tumblr.com) aka queen of my everything bye. i hope you like it :))))))

Minho lets out a noise of surprise as Gally appears in front of him out of nowhere. A slow smile spreads on his face, and he's ready to wrap his arms around him, but there's something stopping him and two seconds later he knows what that is.

Gally's smirk.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, his voice so low and deep, Minho can feel a single shiver running down his spine. He swallows glances up at him.

“Hi,” he breathes out, silently cursing himself for how he sounds, but it earns him a brush of Gally''s fingers against his cheek, so he fingures it's okay. Maybe. “What are you doing here?”

Gally takes a step closer, and Minho fights everything in him to not step forward as well so their bodies are touching. “I missed you,” Gally says.

It's probably his imagination, but Minho feels Gally's breath on his lips anyway. “Missed me?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

And that's all the warning he gets before Gally simply crashes their mouth together, his kiss rough and his tongue demanding as he licks into Minho's mouth, making him gasp again, his hands coming to rest on Gally's hips so he won't move away.

Gally never eases up, keeps kissing him forcefully, knotting a hand in Minho's hair to tip his head up so he has better access, and Minho doesn't want to think about how hot that is, how he wants Gally to always be like this (maybe not always, but more often. It's good. Very good.)

It's only when Gally breaks the kiss, that Minho remembers he has to breathe so he won't pass out. He's gulping down air underneath Gally's amused gaze, probably ever so smug with Minho's reaction, but he can't help it.

“Someone might find us,” he whispers as soon as he gets control over his lungs again.

“Let them find us,” comes Gally's reply, giving a sharp tug at Minho's hair that makes him whimper, although the sound is mostly swallowed by Gally's mouth again and Minho kind of forgets what they were talking about.

Sometimes no foreplay is the best kind of foreplay.

He can feel himself going pliant against Gally, giving in and letting him take control. Usually it takes longer for him to get to this point, but he probably has to give credit to Gally for being so _amazingly good_ at this, because all he wants is to let Gally have him,

A lot of people would probably laugh at him if they knew. (That's why we don't tell them, Gally always says.)

When Gally pulls him forward again, Minho almost feels his knees buckle, and he has to hold on to him so he won't fall.

“So eager already,” Gally whispers against his lips. Flicking his tongue over them and forcing another keen from Minho's throat. “Wish you could see yourself like this, babe. I wonder what you'd say. 'Get it together, Minho'? Or maybe you'd tell yourself to give in to me. Wouldn't that be nice as well?”

All Minho can do is whimper, his head falling forward as soon as Gally releases his hair again, and the next moment there's a gentle hand on the small of his back, rubbing tiny circles. “It's okay,” Gally whispers into his hair, “take a moment. It's okay.”

Soothed by his voice, Minho gives a small nod and inhales, letting Gally's scent of _wood_ and _cloth_ and _citrus_ wash over him. Maybe it's strange that such a thing can be calming, but Minho has learned to accept that a long time ago. Gally makes him calm and excited at the same time, restless and patient, in and out of control. That's just the way it is, and the moment he stopped denying that, was a good one.

“Okay again?” Gally asks a couple of minutes later, waiting until he has Minho's nod of approval before moving his hand again, dipping it underneath the hem of Minho's shirt and raking his nails over his skin. Minho gasps again, just a little puff of breath that lands hot on Gally's neck, but he knows Gally has felt it because he digs his nails in just that little bit harsher.

He's arching into Gally's touch nonetheless though, like he's been craving it for years, like he hasn't been touched by anyone ever before. And Gally gives it to him, would probably give anything Minho asked for, but now he wants this and Gally gives it without questioning it, traces his nails all over Minho's back until Minho is sure there are bruises, red marks that stand out against his skin, that feel a little hotter than his not-bruised skin. Marks that will make him shiver the next time Gally brishes them again, and he hopes he does, _dear God_ Minho hopes he does. 

“Lift your arms. I'm gonna take off your shirt,” Gally whispers, breaking the silence. Minho complies without a second thought, letting Gally tug his shirt up and off over his head.

The air is cold at first, but Gally's hands warm him up again, his palms flat against Minho's chest as he trails them up and down, to his stomach, the waistband of his jeans, fingertips dipping just underneath it, and up again, over his abs, his nipples, to his neck. A touch that makes Minho's face feel warm. He's not sure if he's blushing but he things he is, although he's not sure why. Gally has touched him like this before (but still it's every time different, every time better and worse than the previous, every time Minho feels himself getting a little more lost in the world that is Gally, all Gally). 

A wet mouth latches itself to Minho's shoulder, and he makes a throaty noise at the feeling, his head falling back, his throat exposed. He's not surprised when he feels Gally's mouth move in that direction, peppering hot kisses to Minho's skin on his way, but the first scrape of teeth over his pulse _does_ come as a surprise, making Minho moan quietly.

He feels Gally suck a mark into his skin, an angry red bruise, but he can't tell if it'll be hidden by the collar of his shirt – he hopes it won't, hopes this will be a statement, hopes this is Gally's way of saying _mine_ and _mine alone_. 

Minho doesn't trust his voice to speak, but if he could, he'd ask for more marks.

“I want you to suck me,” Gally whispers into his skin. 

Minho doesn't even try to hold back his moan anymore, just goes along with it. “Yeah,” he tries to say, but it's so breathless that it hardly comes out right.

Gally's hand is back in his hair though, pushing him down, lower and lower until Minho is on his knees, face to face with Gally's dick, tenting the front of his shorts.

Minho keens again, but this time from how much he wants it, how badly he wants to burry his face in Gally's crotch, suck him in, take him all the way until he feels like he's choking, until all he can think about is Gally. 

But he can't move, the grip Gally has on his hair too tight. All he can do is watch as Gally slowly pushes his shorts down, revealing black briefs that are undoubtedly uncomfortable.

“You can take those off,” Gally whispers.

Minho lets out a grateful noise, his fingers itching when he tangles them in the waistband of Gally's briefs and pulls it down, and groans low in his throat when Gally's cock is _finally_ freed, hard and heavy and so beautiful Minho could wax poetry about it if anyone let him.

He glances up at Gally to check, and when he gets a nod in return, he leans closer and brushes his lips _so so lightly_ over the head, licking them clean afterwards with a breathy keen.

There's a yank on his hair, one that makes Minho whince, but it's clear what Gally is asking for and Minho eagerly obeys, couldn't have said no even if he wanted to.

He parts his hips for him, waits, his stomach a knot of nerves, but then Gally rocks his hips forward, his cock easily sliding between Minho's lips, and that's it.

That's all he was waiting for, to feel Gally on his tongue and against the back of his throat, to feel him everywhere.

Gally holds his head in place while he fucks Minho's mouth with shallows thrusts, bucking just a little bit, so little that it makes Minho want to cry because he can take so much more, knows that Gally knows that he can as well, but he also understands that this is what Gally is aiming for. He wants Minho to know that he's doing this for himself, and not for him, and this is the best way to do that – by not giving in to Minho, not matter how much he wants. 

Minho whimpers in frustration, tries to tilt his head forward, but Gally's grip prevents him from doing so. All he can do is sit there and take it, swirl his tongue around occasionally, and it's _great_ but it's _not enough_ , not what Minho craves. 

And just when he thinks that he's not gonna get it, that Gally is going to leave him hanging like this, his thrusts become more forecefull, almost demanding, demanding Minho to take it, to open up wide for him, to let Gally have his throat. And Minho _moans_ , he moans so loudly he's nearly embarrassed by it.

After that, it doesn't take very long anymore. Usually Minho can tell when Gally starts getting close, but now he's so far gone that it comes as a surprise – Gally spilling himself in his mouth, grunting loudly and whispering Minho's name, riding out the aftershocks, and Minho wants to swallow but it's so much, probably half of it dripping down his chin, and he's pretty sure he's crying but he doesn't care because he has what he wants, has what he's been waiting for and it's so good.

Just when Minho feels like he's about to choke, Gally pulls out. Minho gasps for breath and almost feels dizzy when he finally can, when his lungs expand, and he feels like he's flying, far above them, above both of them, out of his own body. 

Gally has to say his name three times before Minho remembers it's _his_ name.

“You okay?” Gally asks. 

Minho thinks he nods but he's not sure. Gally tries pulling him up but his whole body feels like jello, like it doesn't belong to him anymore. He just accidentally happened to be in it, but it's not his body. It belongs to someone else, there's no other solution. 

Another try, and when that one doesn't work either, Gally sinks down instead, sitting down in front of Minho. Soft fingers touch his face, examining him. Minho stares at Gally with dark eyes, still breathing heavily. There must be red blotches on his cheeks but Minho can't tell for sure.

“You're okay,” he hears Gally say a minute later, which makes Minho nod again. 

Of course he's okay. 

When he closes his eyes, bright colors are dancing in front of his eyelids. He's dizzy when he opens them again, but smiles at Gally nonetheless.

Someone moans, and as soon as he registers the sound, Minho knows it's him, and a second later he also feels Gally's hand on him, palming him through the fabric of his jeans.

Minho wants to warn him, wants to tell him, but before he can do that, it's already too late.

Gally _presses down_ , the heel of his hand digging on Minho's cock, and he's coming, murmuring a mantra of _GallyGallyGally_ like it's something sacred, like it's a prayer, like it's the only word he remembers, and maybe it is. 

He keeps coming for what feels like at least a minute, his body twitching and shuddering, his voice hoarse and his throat sore when he finally inhales again.

“Open your eyes,” someone says. Gally says. 

Minho obliges and finds himself staring up at the ceiling. In the corner of his eye he spots Gally's face, looking a little bit worried and a little bit fond.

“There you go. In the land of the living again.” 

Strong arms pick him up, but even Gally isn't strong enough to pretend Minho doesn't weigh anything. Still, he doesn't protest, and when he puts Minho down again, it's on a bed and it's surprisingly gentle, and Minho is surprised again when Gally gets in next to him and wraps his arms around him.

“I'm here,” he says.

Minho nods. 

“I'll stay.”

 _Thank you_ , Minho thinks, because he can't say it, can't say anything anymore.

He hopes Gally understands anyway.


End file.
